Sola Amor
by PsYChO
Summary: GVi. Two discordant hearts meet amidst the upheaval of Nations. Theirs is a tumultuous journey that reverberates throughout the annals of time itself.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

_Facta, non verba_ - Deeds, not words.

The road came from the western hills, a summer's persistent rain leaving it with glutinous strips of mud caked hard and rutted, making the trip all the more treacherous. It was a derelict road, littered on both sides with a plethora of weeds, marshes and shrubbery. But it was the only road that connected the village of Trigent with the well-trodden, and better built, merchant road that ran into the town of Ducent that coerced merchant caravans from afar with its bustling marketplace and well-fortified walls.

Aside the deceptive marsh that lay to the east of the road where herons hunted frogs and the greenery appeared almost traversable, was the great Forest of Trigenta, patron saint of Trigent. The forest was dense and thickly wooded, offering plenty of game and herbs if the season was right. The large, towering trees had trunks the width of a merchant's cart; but the thickness of the wood was not enough to repel the shaft of ash and birch, tipped with _Milessi _Steel, that splintered the wood and sunk two inches deep into the crosshairs of a crudely painted cross.

"For F—k's sake!" The exclamation was coarse, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath that made a strangely rustic 'woosh' sound.

Two angry black orbs stared petulantly at the shrouded figure a distant one hundred fifty paces away. There was a slight easterly breeze, and the dark ragged cloak swayed slightly as the figure lowered a long bow and walked patiently towards the scene of the commotion. The irritation in the stranger grew tenfold, as the transgressor was walking, or rather it being better described as a laconic amble, with no apparent sense of dread nor apology.

"Was that your goddamn arrow, boy?" The question, in all its due rancor, was asked despite the fact that the man was fully aware where it had originated from.

"Aye."

"In the name of God and the Blessed Saint Trigenta, I should have your bullocks cut off and your guts strung like a damn Beghard's!"

He squinted fiercely at the 'boy', who easily towered above his bulky and glutinous frame. He was wearing scruffy boots, a faded pair of breeches and a coarse linen shirt covered with a cloak made of patched wool. He was a tall and imposing boy, with a muscularly broad chest and sturdy frame which checked the more colorful expletives and threats that may have been injurious to his health. No doubt his spectacularly sculpted upper body, which, despite the concealing effects of a cloak showed through prominently as a muscular bulge, came from years of practicing drawing that damned long bow.

Though he despised the practice, as all men of his rank should, he had grudgingly acknowledged the tremendous amount of strength needed to draw one fully. But even though it required the pulling strength that was roughly equivalent to hauling a grown man's carcass, his derision stemmed from the lack of finesse in its operation; _finesse_, an imperative prerequisite of chivalry. Archery possessed no chivalry, and thus, in his mind, it attracted only the senseless brutes who were not worthy of Knighthood.

"By God, are you blind as a bat, boy? You could have put one of those devil's tools straight through me," he bellowed, pointing in exaggerated rage at the ash arrow embedded firmly in the tree trunk. "Trigenta's bones, why I should beat you senseless with it!"

And he made an attempt to retrieve the deadly projectile from the tree, but after a lengthy period of exertion and profuse sweating, he finally abandoned the ridiculous attempt with as much grace as his portly frame could muster. He could see signs of a smirk plastered on the boy's well-formed face and that fuelled more rage that was threatening to boil to the surface.

"Carry your weight around here you worthless peasant. What the hell are you doing slacking off here?" A vein was comically pulsating, a marked bulge on the right side of his forehead, as he hollered out his threats.

"Practicing lord. I've already finished with the stables." The voice was somehow dark, a bit subdued but nevertheless could be heard clearly.

"Finished? Ha, don't make me laugh churl. You are a goddamn peasant. If it were up to me your work _should_ never be finished," the chubby figure of authority continued belligerently.

"Aye. Then I will pray to whichever entity suits me that the decision _should_ never be yours to make, Lord."

Two eyes slit into a venomous glare. "You listen to me boy, and you listen good. I am the Vassal of Sir Rocherrien, your lord and master of this pathetic place. If I so much as see you with that devil's handiwork again, I will throw you and your mother out to the dogs, you hear me? And she can whore herself all throughout Saiya-jindom to feed you and your brother's wretched mouths."

The portly Vassal had a self-satisfied sneer replace his previously disconcerted demeanor, as he watched the youth suddenly bridle in steely anger. He was, for an instant, faintly nervous of the hard glare that betrayed a hint of something worse, something feral. But the youth was checked by his circumstances, a peasant serf of Tirgenta, a village of the Lord of the Manor, Sir Rocherrien, and nodded almost imperceptibly.

"I did not acknowledge an affirmation." Now that the swing of the foray was in his favor, the Vassal savored his sense of power over such an imposing specimen of youth and vigor.

"Aye, my lord."

With one final exertion, he grabbed the protruding end of the arrow shaft, threw all his weight on it and heard a satisfying 'crack' as the ash splintered. The vassal tossed the broken piece of ash into the forest greenery, waved him off nonchalantly, and lumbered away with a scrap of parchment tucked firmly under his arm.

Gohan watched him disappear over the hilltop sourly, as he surveyed the broken end of the arrow tip still embedded into the oak trunk. He ran a calloused hand over the jagged end, almost caressing it, and then suddenly, with a mountain of effort, pulled the broken end out of the trunk.

The steel tip came out cleanly enough, and then Gohan set to work as he carefully extracted the tipped head off the broken piece of ash that was formerly its shaft. The steel, forged by the great Steel masons of Millais, was a thing of great value. _Milessi _Steel, found in abundance among the land's ore, was often referenced as _Infragilis;_ Unbreakable. The steel compound was so strong that it could pierce solid plate armor at one hundred paces, chain mail armor at two hundred and, as the Vassal witnessed firsthand, solid oak at one hundred fifty.

It was one of only two bodkin points that Gohan had possessed made from the famous steel, plunder he had salvaged from the shores of the Trigenta River where an archer had met his demise from an errant sword swipe.

Gohan fingered the tip gingerly, as he surveyed the scenery around him; what he called home for some seventeen odd years of his existence. The grassy knolls and gently sloping meadows were calm and quiet at this point of the season and he lapsed into his long standing habit of sitting back, chewing a good reed, and losing himself in errant deliberation.

Slumping down on the grass, he swiped at his hair petulantly and regarded the retreating dot of the portly vassal with a surprising amount of contempt. He was never really known as a hot-headed, passionate youth by the village populace; in fact, he wasn't really known at all. But Gohan preferred to be unnoticed, unhindered to be left to his own devices.

He lived with his mother and brother in a rather derelict thatched unit near the east end of the village, scraping along a sustenance as they worked almost continuously tilling the soil. Because of the rather conspicuous lacking of a primary component in their family unit, the first born had to grow up far before his physical body could facilitate.

Gohan longed to be free; free of this wretched, menial labor, but more importantly, free to search for the cause of his existence. He often sat here, gazing from the hills that afforded the best view of Trigenta, contemplating his circumstance. What was he meant to do?

His mother rarely provided him with any details of his Father, proving that she was as pragmatic as anyone and did not believe in dwelling on past memories—painful memories. For Gohan, his Father was this mirage. This hazy image that he could never fully comprehend but demanded his attention all the same.

It was for that reason that whenever his mother was in her rare wistful moments, he would sap up every small detail that she would divulge. Though he had to piece together excerpts of his father's demeanor, told rather anachronistically from a yearning wife, he felt that these shoddy snapshots spoke volumes of his character. Strong, but more affiliated with the weak. Humble, but extraordinarily able. What was it that his mother had said about his Father living life by the aphorism?

'I think, when you see something wrong, to want to change it in your heart is weak. To want to change it with your tongue, is stronger. I believe that to change it with your hand, is strongest.'

And the son was handsomely bestowed by the father. He also—as he found out in his first childhood fistfight—excelled in combat. It seemed he had a curious natural instinct when it came to self-defense. He had tried to hone that skill secretly, up on these calm greens, but it proved to be difficult given that his mother was furiously and indomitably opposed to him acquiring any sort of skill in the art of combat.

It was even more frustrating when she refused to reveal the source of her tension; instead she barked out semi-realistic ultimatums that he cease and take a reality check. He was a veillein. Fighting would ultimately send him to the gallows, it was inevitable. Although it rung true, there was always this nagging voice inside him, beseeching him towards the physical realm. Instinctually summoning his inherent propensity towards combat, something he was sure he couldn't be rid of. It was the thrill that made his adrenaline pump through those strong, sturdy arms.

Glancing longingly at his bow, imagining the exhilaration of the fight as an army charged, Knights riding hard on big, savage Destriers and men-at-arms wielding an array of swords, axes, and falchions running in hard behind, Gohan knew where his true calling beckoned.

He longed for such excitement, but he was a victim of circumstance. He was stranded in this Godforsaken village with an idiot of a Vassal, destined, perhaps, to spend the rest of his life slaving away in the fields during harvest. Gohan sighed, long and weary, and made his way slowly back to their hut.

_One day, _he thought, _I will achieve glory. One day, they'll see. My mother may think it's idle talk. The other serfs may chastise me as a dreamer. But I have my mantra. _

_I'm not content with nothing. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

_Aut vincere aut mori_ - Either conquer or die

"SOLDIERS! SOLDIERS! SCRAMBLE!"

Gohan was jolted awake by the hoarse cry as the entire village underneath him erupted into a cacophony of piercing female screams and frenzied yells of fear.

The day had been interminably hot. The humidity had not alleviated his plight either, and afternoon hours were the most taxing on the peasantry collecting harvest. Gohan, though far more gifted physically than any of his peers—which was quite remarkable seeming how generations of peasants had built up a sort of genetic 'evolution', habitually producing offspring of a sturdy and broad physique—had also suffered the exigent sweat and heat fully. He hadn't been aware that he had dozed off between his martial arts practice, and so the rude awakening he received was not only disorienting but entirely confusing.

Shaking off that miasmic post-slumber lethargy, Gohan sprung to his feet and peered off his preferred hill, taking in the madness that unfolded in his native village blankly. Everywhere he looked, people were screaming and yelling, frantically gathering up remnants of food and drink, while simultaneously trying to herd their families towards the south end of the village.

The south end tapered off into a marsh, which was widely known to be deadly at high tide but quite tranquil in the low tide days of summer. It was there that the peasantry instinctually fled, partly because it was _away_ from the mercenary descent, and partly because it was a natural barrier to soldiers clad with heavy, burdensome armor and weapons.

Gohan's eyesight was abnormally enhanced, as he had discovered during his childhood, and he could easily spot the crowd of men, marching in pink and white livery, entering at the north end. The boy's eyes widened considerably, since this was no rag-tag group of militia summoned up from the neighboring villages, nor was it the Crown Prince's Barracks approaching, as they would towards a dissenting town, to maintain order but to primarily restore taxation. Gohan had never seen soldiers like this before.

They didn't even appear _human or saiya-jin_, and he could clearly see a large banner, ermine background with a gold eagle swooping in the middle, billowing in the wind as the troop approached. It was quite evident, regardless of where they held their allegiance, that they were on a calculated raid and not on some forage for supplies. All houses the group of fifty or so soldiers passed were systematically torched with callous regard for life. Peasants were being cut down everywhere he looked, the blades cutting flesh with cold efficiency as dying screams filled the late afternoon sky.

Blood flowed in torrents, soaking up and streaking the grass red as the stiff march proceeded through the town. They had entered in unison, a masterful exercise in discipline as they marched, all in place, during the first phase of the village. It seemed though, that after observing the frantic fleeing of the populace, the soldiers were ordered to disperse and cut down the rest of them.

In all parts of the town, soldiers were mobbing and killing his village-men. The women, after witnessing their beloved protectors fall to brazen sword swipes with horrified screams, were being forcibly restrained and gang raped in the middle of the streets. The atrocities didn't stop there, as the children and elderly were not spared from the vindictive and unprovoked slaughter.

Gohan scrambled towards the forest panicked, fear and dread seizing his body. The soldiers were all over the place, crowding the thickest concentration of peasant homes and leaving in their wake huts aflame and a streak of arterial red. Gohan trembled uncontrollably as he tried fervently to knock one of his arrows to his bow. But try as he might, the damned thing wouldn't string properly and his focus kept shifting back to his mother and brother.

The fear was consuming him as he watched two pink clad soldiers run down the village Vassal, slicing him cleanly in the torso, and before they could appreciate the kill, were off closing down on the next victim. What petrified Gohan the most were the terrible screams of anguish. They resonated loudly within his skull as a terrible sense of dread seized his body, like his muscles were atrophied. He couldn't move, he couldn't think; he just crouched there, in the shade of a big yew and coarse bush, transfixed at the scene before him.

"Well well, what do we have here Airn?"

"Looks to me like the lad's scared shitless, Beraph."

"Aye. Ironic. Isn't he sitting in the position to _take_ a shit?"

"How a very sad way to go," and with that, 'Airn', as the other brute called him, lunged forward with his massive falchion arcing in front of him. Gohan had no time to comprehend how the interchange had suddenly got so intensely feral. The falchion slashed the muddy soil beneath him with a fierce 'clomp', pieces of debris scattering around it like spittle, as Gohan scampered backwards until his back hit the coarse bark of the yew.

He was frightened, his mouth slightly parted in the beginnings of a whimper, but for some inexplicable reason his vocal chords had chosen this particular time to malfunction. He abruptly felt a pang of embarrassment flood in to intermingle with the tumultuous eddy of feelings that gripped his body. Fear. Shock. Confusion. He couldn't stop shaking. Suddenly his body was cold on the inside, an unyielding frost that bit his bones that no amount of outward warmth could quash.

"Oi, we have a squeamish one," the massive soldier, Airn, towering well above seven feet, nodded his head towards Gohan's convulsing body.

"Aye, what an unexpected treat. It seems like the saints are smiling down upon us today, eh Airn?"

"Aye, t'would be a pity if we don't enjoy it." Airn smiled sadistically, a row of purplish and crooked teeth peeking out beneath his swollen and puckered lips. Gohan shuddered, still trying to urge his muscles to engage in _some_ activity. Anything! Or else he'll have died on his seventeenth summer skewered to a yew tree like a gutted boar. Think of the major tombstone faux pas, if anything.

The two soldiers advanced on the terrified boy, their shadows casting a somber patch of gloom around his trembling form. The wind had mystically died down, leaving the forest quiet and still, only the soft pad of their combat boots on the soil breaking the eerie silence.

"Be brave, boy, this will be quite a bit more painful to you than it will be to me."

Beraph snorted, licking his lips in a sort of sadistic glee that chilled Gohan's blood and caused a massive wave of goose bumps to erupt over his exposed skin. Beraph, the shorter, stockier, uglier—though Gohan had no doubt neither would be exactly troubadour material—soldier just plain gave him the creeps.

Beraph reared back his sword and his face twisted into an even more sadistic grin—if that was possible—and Gohan clenched his eyes shut in anticipation of the sword thrust. He wondered where the malevolent warrior's preference lay in a kill, and if the fatal wound would hurt substantially more than any other horrific, but non-fatal, wound would. Granted they were morbid and disturbing thoughts entirely incongruous to the pivotal situation at hand, but the mind had a penchant for forming its own weird coping mechanisms.

Gohan waited, and as the stillness of the forest amplified his suspense, he waited some more. Oddly, he felt rather foolish sitting in the thick of the woods waiting to succumb to death. One eye opened slowly to look at his tormentors, but their expressions were wary as their bushy brows furrowed in thought. They were looking about the gloomy recesses of the trees off to his right, staring intently at some imagined thing that Gohan could not see.

Gohan's squinted his eyes in confusion, whipping his head to and fro from their purposeful faces and the myriad maze of trees. And then he heard it too. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there. Gohan felt his senses alert him in fright, shaking him suddenly as he snapped his head back towards the gloom of the yew trees, frantic eyes widening.

_Breathing? I was too scared to notice it before…but it's there. Run! Run away now!_

Gohan was in panic as his ears focused solely on the labored breathing that was coming in shallow gasps, one after another, getting louder with each passing second. Airn gave a small nod to Beraph, and the other grinned wickedly before taking a few cautious steps towards the area. Without much show, the stocky soldier sprinted into the thicket, twigs snapping violently and long, drooping branches rustling loudly before the shrill and frantic yelps could be heard.

Gohan's heart sank, watching in horror as Beraph emerged once again, a small girl hanging limply by the collar from his outstretched hand. Her cherubic face was streaked with tears and smidges of dirt, and her small frame racked in silent whimpers as she pleaded with Gohan with big, golden eyes. Her fright reminded him of his own and it sickened him.

_Trigenta damn it! Why the f—k am I so scared!_ Gohan raged, still unable to move from his spot against the trunk of the yew. He knew the girl. She and his little brother Goten could frequently be found together, playing in the horse stalls and dirtying the hay before Gohan had a chance to stack them. He had always scowled at them for that, but they hadn't listened and their squeals of laughter could be heard outside, probably playing with the broken sickle he was intending to throw out later.

"What do you know, Airn, an unexpected treat!" Beraph sneered in denuded glee, as he held her straggling form proudly like one would do to trout.

Airn scowled, but returned his gaze to Gohan, who sat transfixed on the form of the little girl. "Feh, I have no fetish for little girls. Just finish her quickly."

Beraph grinned maliciously, surveying his 'catch' in appraisal before raising the sword in his other hand.

"NO!" Gohan bellowed, springing up from his seat with his arms outstretched, his face belying a desperation that had never surfaced within him prior. But his hoarse entreaty did him no good, and he watched in absolute horror as Beraph braced the tip of his sword on the small of her back. Gohan only heard her small whimper, weak and pleading, before Beraph impaled her cleanly with a grunt, splattering the nearby trees with a spurt of warm blood.

He collapsed to his knees, arms still clutching at the air, the shock coursing through his body and rendering it stiff and his face pallid. Beraph grinned triumphantly at his victim, whose pretty little head had slumped to the side with half of the bloodied blade jutting out of her torso, as Airn watched in a mixture of awe and disgust.

"Look, Airn, she's a theatre puppet!" Beraph revealed in delight, jerking his sword up and down to make it look the corpse was 'talking'. Gohan's obsidian eyes clouded with a menacing glint of steel, his fists clenched so tightly that tiny droplets of blood dripped to the earth, splattering on fallen leaves and twigs.

"I shall not touch your issues with a fifteen-foot lance, Beraph." Airn sighed wearily, before heaving his falchion above his head and arcing it down towards the boy's neck, intending to neatly lop off his head. Instinctively, the boy dove to the side, as Airn overcompensated and contacted the muddy ground with the falchion, going into a rather bruising roll.

His brain refused to register anything systemically, intuition started to override his response to the aggression as massive amounts of adrenaline coursed through his veins. With frightening speed, Gohan sprang upwards towards the other soldier, Beraph, whom up at the moment had an amused grin on his face as he flaunted his sword, discarding the limp and lifeless body of the little girl. But that grin would taper off into a grunt of exertion as the boy's fist impacted his nose. It was like being hit with a brick, and the man hit the ground hard.

The speed that Gohan moved with was astounding, and the heavy falchion was hard pressed to cause some damage. Gohan again dove sideways, dodging Airn's lethal blow once again, and this time managed to salvage Beraph's dropped sword. The latter was still reeling from his blow, clutching his bleeding nose and howling curses in some strange language at the lad.

As Airn's weapon descended upon the crouched teen, Gohan raised Beraph's blade up high and blocked, causing a metallic 'clang' to resonate loudly through the shady wood. Airn grinned broadly, showing off his crooked and purplish teeth once more, as he forced his falchion down upon the boy with brute strength. Somewhere in the scuffle, a twig snapped loudly under a scuffed leather boot.

"Hear that boy? I'm going to enjoy that sound from your spinal cord!"

"I'll f---ing _gralloch_ you, vermin!" Beraph swung his big boot towards Gohan's head, trying to decapitate him while he was still struggling to repel Airn's falchion that was endeavoring to crush him. Gohan sensed the attack, and as quick as a hare, he swung his stance, pushing the falchion—and Airn's full downforce—towards his left side. The result was the falchion swooping downwards and slicing the brute's right leg cleanly off in midstride. Beraph howled in agony, crumpling to the floor as blood pooled around his gory stump.

Airn, now bellowing in rage for his downed comrade, swung his falchion horizontally and carelessly, trying to cut Gohan in two as the anger consumed him. But the youth had different ideas, and he parried with the sword, the loud 'twang' vibrating painfully up his forearms.

Though he had practiced plenty with a sword, he had never found an able sparring partner and was quite clueless upon the harrowing effects of a real weapon to weapon combat. The brute pushed on, his frenzy fuelling a burst of muscle, as his repeated and heavy blows pressed the inexperienced teen backwards.

To the casual observer, it seemed that the youth was heading towards his inevitable demise, but Gohan's senses had rapidly become exceedingly sharp and honed as the adrenaline pumped through his system. He could literally see the sweat, observe the gradual shortness of breath, and the labored and slowed movements of the brute as the fight progressed. He was getting tired.

Gohan managed to parry another blow, again flinching as the after-shock stung its way up his arms, before realizing that the next blow was a clear error upon his assailant's part. The falchion rose high above his head, intending to swipe down and slicing through the skull of this upstart brat, but was too fatigued to execute it quickly.

Gohan didn't know what happened. The falchion was high above his head, but it never came down. Airn stood there, frozen at the apex of his mighty blow, his face screwed up in irritation and confusion. Slowly the boy looked at the brute's body, and suddenly an intense wave of nausea slammed into his gut as his rage and despair tapered off.

The blade had pierced through the kidney, and blood had started to seep around the edges of the blade to mar the pink livery, blotching up the lower parts of the tunic. The creature made a curious mewing sound, choking as blood gurgled up and filled his mouth, before slumping to the ground with a loud thud, dead.

Gohan stood numb with shock, staring at the dead soldier and the long sword protruding out of his side. Suddenly collapsing to the ground, the youth scrambled back on his butt until he felt the hard trunk of yew, curling up his legs to his breast and trembling ferociously. Beraph, the now one-legged soldier, had arched himself into a fetal position, whimpering almost inaudibly as blood continued the soak the twigs and soil.

What had he done? Had he _killed_ in his rage? What had he done?

With that, the troubled youth doubled over, relieving himself of his rather modest lunch of bread and cheese, as darkness fell over the ruined and burning village of Trigent.

The gentle breeze would have been a perfect compliment to the open, halcyon summer night in this rural community. In the given circumstances however, it only facilitated to bring the stifling stench of death and the acrid scent of burning to the desolate boy.

He stood over the darkened mound of soil, staring bleakly as the wind played softly with his one solitary bang of dark hair that fell slightly above his eye. For the past hour he had been consumed with trying to ascertain what exactly the people of this village had done to incite this wrath—what exactly was his mother guilty of to deserve such a gruesome death?

Since the women of the village were dragged out and gang-raped in the village streets before being murdered, most of them were spared the wrath of the hungry flames charring bodies beyond recognition. So although her face and parts of her body were terribly mutilated, he had easily recognized her body from the somewhat eccentricity of her choice in wardrobe.

The children, though, were not so lucky. When the villagers had realized that they would not be able to outrun the army to the marshes, they had hoarded the women and children in the huts and tried to muster up a defense. They were slaughtered, and the barns and cottages, where the terrified children were huddled up, had been set ablaze, effectively destroying all remnants of that cherubic, innocent face that lit up spectacularly with a smile.

So poor Goten, his little brother of seven, did not have the dignity of a proper burial. Gohan made his small, albeit empty, mound adjoining his mother's alongside the little girl's, and could vividly remember how close the little one was to his mama, and how protective he had been of him. How they would sit in the fields, the three of them, and count the stars at night, and how his mother had secretly revealed to him how her little angel reminded her of his father more than anything. And as the emotion overwhelmed him, he crumpled on their graves and wept, howling his anguish into the empty village, where nobody could hear him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2**

_Fortes fortuna adiuvat_ - Fortune favors the brave

He had always hated his boots. They were torn, scuffed, unbelievably uncomfortable, and there was this slight indentation in the sole that irritated his heel to no end. Again he stopped on the dirt path and tried to readjust how his foot _sat_ within the contraption of leather and lace. He had been walking for what felt like an eternity, and his sore feet gave off a persistent wail of protest.

The scenery didn't seem to want to alleviate his plight either, since most of the land throughout this part of the country was a boring and endless expanse of rolling, gently sloping hills and dense forest surrounding the outskirts. Sporadically within his journey, he'd see a wisp of smoke floating skywards from the thickness of the trees, and he'd have to resist the temptation to storm the cottage for food and a night's rest.

The boy knew that finding lodging for the night would be quite difficult since he had spent his last silver on the moldy and incredibly foul smelling lump the miller's wife had dared to call _cheese_, sopped on top of a dry, hard sort of bread that tasted like damp hay. Don't get started on how he'd know what hay tasted like. It was a rough childhood, and a rough journey, to say the least.

_Trigenta damn it, I should have taken up on that flea-bitten farmer's offer of a pony,_ the lad relented sourly. No doubt the pony was aged, worn beyond even his shoes, and looked like it would collapse upon bearing the weight of a child, let alone a two-hundred pound adult with the most superlative of physiques.

And no doubt his conscience had ate at him for considering to accept the offer of the farmer, who was obviously in no position to make such a proposition. The season was comparatively dry, yielding only modest quantities of crop, and this quantified by the fact that he had twelve active mouths to feed, the man needed all the help he could get.

Plus, if he had heard the rumors correctly, the Crown was debating about levying another round of strenuous taxation that already pummeled the overburdened peasantry. That would not spell relief to the farmer and his family. In summary, as usual, his damned conscience had screwed him out of a necessity of which the effects he was now feeling rather garishly.

The midday sun scorched his already tanned skin and the gaudy sword hilt he had taken as a souvenir from his first kill felt conspicuously heavier than it should. Grunting in impatience, the youth shifted its gaudy frame from his left shoulder to his right, readjusting the straps with comparative ease. Although only a year in, it seemed like it was just yesterday his life had taken a sudden turn, veering of its 'projected' course and flinging him headlong into this tumultuous journey. He remembered his sentencing quite vividly.

**Interlude**

"_Gohan of Trigent, son of Son Chi-Chi, under the Lordship of Sir Warkwik Rocherrien, is hereby convicted in the name of the Crown Prince and under the authority of the Honorable Justice of the Peace of the crime of murder and conspiracy to murder, punishable by death."_

_It was read out loud by the Crown Prince's Commissioner at the gallows, and few, if any, of the people in the town of Ducent cared of this rural peasant from some obscure town. They saw this scenario with surprising frequency since the harsh taxation and moderate harvest of this year compelled some parts of the peasantry to resort to extreme measures. _

_Every week or so, a member of one of the two rebel groups plaguing the lands under the Duchy of Aquinox, Ducent being its only strong merchant village and only viable sea port, would be hanged, drawn and quartered as was the prevailing punishment of treason. The nobility had gone to great lengths to proclaim these rebel factions as treasonous, on account of their very foundation rebelling against the Crown Prince's authority over the land. So these widespread levels of apathy towards capital punishment was not uncommon elsewhere within the Duchy of Aquinox, too. _

_Gohan had objected vociferously to these accusations, imploring his own countrymen to realize that he had killed the enemy troop in self defense. But the nobility had to play down this attack, undoubtedly foreign, on Trigent to keep a semblance of peace amongst the widely speculative lower-class population. _

_To their relief, they had found the perfect scapegoat to take the fall of an entire village pillaged and destroyed. The baseless story of Gohan conspiring with the rebel factions to pillage the city, for supplies as well as to send a message to the Crown, served well enough to condemn an innocent to death in the eyes of the public. _

_After that, it seemed that the events that transpired were entirely the result of his imagination. He had been shivering in his damp and musty cellar, the onset of winter just making itself known as the first traces of snow were starting to accumulate atop the barren tree branches, hoping his evening meal would come quicker rather than later, when the rustic door creaked open. _

_The whining of the hinges scarcely failed to trigger a migraine attack in the youth as it callously assaulted his highly sensitive hearing. This time was no different. Gohan squeezed his eyes shut and clamped two grimy hands against his ears, trying to numb the piercing pain in his head. His ragged clothing, littered with tears and large, gaping holes that offered nothing in the form of warmth, was sticking to his body uncomfortably. _

_They never really took baths. Occasionally, after a long and arduous day of labor digging ditches or hauling stone to reinforce the town walls, they would dump a bucket of filthy water over their heads._

_His visitor held a moderately sized torch, the flame flickering hungrily and providing a sudden rush of illumination, and Gohan moaned softly as he skittered back against his cell walls and shut his eyes. His visitor had enough courtesy to dampen the intensity of the flame and waited patiently for Gohan's hyper-sensitive eyes to adjust to the new light. Gohan, still squinting against the flame, peered up and saw a dark, hooded figure standing stiffly upright and idly playing with the clasp—made of gold and embedded with jewels—that held his cloak. _

"_Ah. Gohan of Trigent, I presume?" His voice was loud and booming, the sort that would be associated with a man of power._

"_Aye, my Lord. 'Tis me." Gohan was surprised at how coarse his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and tried to persuade himself that this change in his vocal cords was only temporary as he regarded the figure more fully. _

"_Now, you seem to me to be a lad with a bright future, Gohan. What could be so compelling for you to throw it all away with murder?" Though Gohan could not see the veiled face, he could feel a weird sort of energy, a type of aura that surrounded the figure._

"_I did not murder anyone!" Gohan immediately blurted out, emotion gripping him as his eyes flickered wildly._

"_Ah, so I've heard. After rotting six months in this hellhole, do you still presume to confess innocence?"_

"_I'm not presuming anything. I did not murder them." Gohan was gritting his teeth, though it was not anger but desperation that overtook him._

"_Oh. Do you deny the fact that it was you who plunged the sword into those men?" There was something peculiar about the man's tone. It was not accusing, but had the air of curiosity mixed with a healthy dose of amusement and slick with languor. _

"_No. 'Twas me who used the sword," and Gohan had to take a deep breath to steady himself. The memories of that fateful night flooded back and the depths of his stomach prickled threateningly. _

"_Aye, it was. So what of it?"_

"_Th—they weren't civilians. They were soldiers. And they killed my entire village." It was a solemn Gohan that murmured the words and though there was no mention of retribution, his tone left no doubt whatsoever of it._

"_Ah, soldiers." He was quiet for a moment and the cackling of the flame as it flickered in the derelict cell was louder than it should be. "Have you wondered why you haven't been executed yet?"_

_Gohan frowned in confusion at the sudden non-sequitur. "Aye."_

"_Then make of that what you will. I see that you want retribution, and though I do not encourage it, it's an invaluable asset for your Country. Lord knows half the infantry and a good portion of the cavalry is manned by a seething desire for revenge. So, Gohan of Trigent, what do you think?"_

_Gohan studied the robed figure cautiously. "Of what, my Lord?"_

"_Hah, caution. That is also an invaluable asset. I am here to offer you a pardon, Gohan. I have arranged for you to be exonerated from your charges, but, in return, you must adhere to my conditions." The whole thing was so business-like it was bordering on ludicrous. Still, the thought of freedom jolted Gohan's senses and he was wide awake and on his guard now._

"_Conditions, Lord?"_

"_Aye, the Crown Prince is in need of your services. So, if I set you free, you must head north to the border of Aquinox and the Mainland, at a town called Wheydon, and join the army being assembled there. I am a recruiter, and fighting serves killers better than fat, pampered nobles, understand?" The man's slack and bored stance shifted purposefully, as the robed figure stood to his full height now to address Gohan. "Do not, however, try to fool the Crown. We'll know if you don't show up, and if you think this is hell on Earth, you're still a pup suckling from its mother's bosom."_

_Gohan had little to think about. He was being offered his freedom and a chance for retribution in the Prince's army, but before he made his pledge, he had had one more pressing question. "Is the Prince intending to slaughter those pink bastards?"_

_The figure smiled, and he saw the hint of the whiteness of his teeth in the dark abyss that was his face, "Let's just say you will have plenty of chances for vengeance."_

_Gohan's grimy and emaciated face set in a grim look of determination, as he nodded his consent to the imposing figure. But he wasn't thinking of the man anymore, but of something else. An image that stuck vividly in his mind, disturbing whatever little sleep he could salvage in this dank, rat-infested hell hole: An ermine flag, with a gold eagle._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3**

_Concordia discors_ - Discordant harmony

Gohan heard the bells, plangent and sonorous, proclaiming its deep clangor across the grassy landscape. It signaled that there was a settlement up ahead, not a rural village that boasted a small, often crudely made church and pasture, but a merchant town that bustled with activity. Gohan's dour mood lightened somewhat as his slow trudge picked up to a relatively alert walk, his back straightening and legs increasing in length of their stride.

He wanted to take respite from the endless languor of this goddamned countryside with nobody to keep you company but the occasional stray dog, and even it would abandon him when it discerned that Gohan was in no shape to offer any scraps. The late summer sun burned into the back of his neck and the lad scowled, swiping his hand through his unruly black hair before continuing to make his ascent to the hilltop.

The dewy crest afforded a much better view that sated his mind's natural inquisition. The town _was_ a merchant town, not big, but not yet small, by the looks of it, nestled safely between thick green shrubbery and forest. The well-trodden path led up to an arching gateway, flanked on both sides with shoddy, neglected looking parapets that he thought served as sentry posts. But there were no sentries on lookout, just a crumbling top of stone that cast a shadow across the entrance way where two bored looking, scantily armored guards conversed carelessly.

Inside the arched gateway, a crowd bustled fitfully, almost chaotically, within a large square court that Gohan perceived served as the marketplace. The crowd was dense, the late afternoon inspiring a last spurt in commerce, as merchants and shopkeepers yelled their pitches, and chapmen and hawkers tried to coerce sales of ale, pies, and mackerel. The lateness of the day also boasted another set of people; the frivolous contingent of residents, including journeymen that just ended their workday, a stray squire or two, and sergeants-at-arms strolling about indolently.

As the lad proceeded towards the town, his gaze flicked sharply towards the bushy, coarse row of shrub and plant that bordered the path. The boy could have swore he saw a flash of darkness permeate the green, leafy wall for just a second. After peering at it warily for a while, he concluded with a grunt of annoyance that he really needed to find something to eat before he started hallucinating that he could fly. Or blow things up with a flick of his hand, as ridiculous as it may sound.

He continued down the walkway, squinting his eyes and shielding them with his left hand against the glare of the sun, when the previously scrutinized section of shrubbery burst to reveal a dark form leaping from its confines. The figure was dressed in a long cloak, too big for the petite form with a loose-fitting cowl that concealed their face. Gohan surmised that it was a boy, no more than fifteen as his small frame and narrow shoulders betrayed, and was surprisingly graceful on his feet as he dashed up the walk way in the direction Gohan was coming from.

Gohan narrowed his eyes and stepped evenly to the side, intending to allow a bit more room than necessary for the boy to make his ascent up the hill. Then another figure caught Gohan's attention as he stumbled out of the same set of bushes, nearly tumbling over in his excitement, hollering loudly at the spirited boy.

"Thief! Vandal!" There was a breathy gasp, the man doubling over on his rather large frame and clutching his protruding belly, shortly followed by another appeal. "Stop!"

The boy's mad dash was cut swiftly off when Gohan shot a practiced arm out, at the last possible second, to envelop his shoulders and pull him towards his muscular form. The boy yelped in surprise as Gohan's arm wrapped around his narrow frame, almost being a choke-hold if the sinewy arm was a bit further up and at the neck, which pinned his back to Gohan's body, effectively trapping him there. He struggled furiously, screaming and kicking up dirt in his frenzied haste, but in vain because the trunk of a figure wouldn't budge.

Gohan clutched the diminutive form to his own physique effortlessly, his angular jaw set in a line, as he tried to subdue the kid's frantic movement. Somewhere between the jostling and the constant thrashing of his quarry, Gohan's arm got dislodged from its grip of the child's shoulders and rode down his chest. The frantic struggling continued, now accompanied by angry protests, and Gohan's eyes went wide in astonishment, then quickly into something akin to horror as he let go of the form and stumbled back.

The kid saw his chance to escape and as he tried to duck underneath Gohan's reeling form and make a break for freedom, a pudgy hand grabbed his sleeve and he turned to see the triumphant face of the merchant holler loudly.

"Got you, scum!"

"Let me go, you brute!" The small form tried to shake free, but the merchant retained a strong grip and Gohan moved to cut off the exit, completing the entrapment.

"Let you go? By Saint Korin's blood, I'll not rest 'til I see you begging for alms you filthy street urchin!" The man jerked the sleeve violently, bringing the kid down to his knees as he cried out in pain.

Gohan stared at the cloaked form, furrowing his brows in confusion. Did he just imagine it? It couldn't be true. But he was sure he _felt_ it. Nervously brushing aside the daunting feeling creeping onto him, he resigned himself to make sure his hypothesis was correct. Pressing his lips together in grim determination, Gohan swept his hand low and swiped off the concealing cowl, revealing the figure underneath. The merchant elicited an audible gasp, letting the handful of sleeve he had had clutched in his palm loose and straightening his bent posture.

She had raven hair, long and flowing, obviously bunched up and hidden under the cowl prior, and a beautiful, lightly tanned face, highlighted by a dazzling set of large, azure eyes. She was still on one knee, rubbing her wrist gingerly and glaring at the overweight merchant, trying to show defiance in the face of certain punishment. Her other hand clutched a sheaf of bread to her body, partially sheltered by the voluminous folds of her cloak and Gohan felt a pang of guilt run up his spine.

_By Trigenta, she's beautiful._

"You're…a girl?" The merchant exclaimed, looking at her and then the bread incredulously.

"So what if I am? I still need to eat, you pig." She snapped at him, but Gohan could see that there was a palpable sense of fear reflecting off her sparkling blue eyes.

"Why you," he retorted angrily. "Woman or not, stealing is stealing. I hope you can be just as pretty with two stumps for arms, whore."

Gohan perceived that the façade of anger that served to mask her fear was slipping, and again he felt a wave of guilt, the peasant girl's plight drawing on his hidden sympathies.

"If I may input," Gohan interjected, and watched as the petulant face of the merchant shot up to peer at his own. They made eye contact and his features softened as he regarded Gohan with a small, grateful smile.

"Aye, my good man. My name is Jaleno Mawsby, of Luark. I cannot express enough my gratitude for your courage and honor. You have allowed me to preserve my good faith and given me the opportunity to mete out a hefty, though appropriate, punishment to this street filth," he proclaimed, in an exaggeratingly euphuistic style to make a show of status.

Jaleno Mawsby of Luark was a portly, aging man with short, close cropped hair, a heavily jowled face dominated by a pointy, yet crooked, nose and a pair of rheumy, bloodshot eyes. He was dressed in fine, parti-colored robes of blue and green and expensive white silk that adorned his shoulders and upper torso.

He continued on superciliously, "I am a man of key importance in my home town of Luark," and he gestured to the town behind him, "And am proud to say hold considerable sway in her affairs. You shall not go empty-handed, my young warrior, for your act of bravery invokes a noble reward." He reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a small purse and fingered two pieces of silver as his face broke into a sadistic smile. "Rest assured, she will get her just desserts."

Gohan cringed at the sight of the silver, his rational, less emotional side screaming at him to take the proffered reward and make his exit. After all, she _did_ steal, and that was wrong. There would be no shame in letting justice take its due course. Somehow though, glancing at her worried but rebellious glare, he knew that it would be more than her petite form could burden. He sighed as memories of his horrid cellar flashed by him and knew he would be in deep dog excrement for what he was about to do. Cursing his conscience, he took a deep breath and began again.

"If I may, Master Mawsby," and continued after the orotund merchant nodded approvingly, "I rather think it be too harsh on her to condemn her so quickly." He spared another glance at her and saw a pair of surprised eyes stare back at him. "I am sure it's her first time, and given the hardships that have plagued our great land recently, I think it won't go to naught if we let her off."

"Nonsense. The dirty wench will get no leniency from me," the burgher dismissed him nonchalantly, extending his arm to convince Gohan to take the money and leave.

"But, if you be so kin—" His objection was cut off almost immediately.

"No, I fear you ask of me what doth not concord with my honor. She and her kind can rot in hell for all I care. They are a plague, a Black Death to society. Scrounging around with their filthy hands and being a nuisance to civilization. They have no practical use, dirty beggars, so take your reward without prejudice. I have made up my mind," and he made a dismissive gesture, waving his hands and moving to grab the sleeve of the girl once more. She objected with a cry of resentment, but it was weaker and doused with sentiment as tiny rivulets of water collected at the sides of her eyes.

Gohan clenched his teeth in suppressed anger, his hand slowly making its way to his sword hilt. Obsidian eyes glowing with restrained vehemence, the younger man growled deeply, causing both the girl and the obese merchant to whip their heads around in astonishment.

He reminded him much of that damned hellspawn Vassal back in his village, who characteristically harbored unreserved and deliberate derision for people of 'lower birth'. The peasantry, who broke their backs and slaved long hours to provide the exigent variety of dishes, no doubt seasoned with rare spices and herbs, that this man and people like him devoured each and every day. He possessed nothing but contempt for such soulless creatures.

"Listen you goddamned, ugly whoreson," the incensed teenager snarled, drawing his broadsword in a practiced motion and holding it in front of him menacingly. "Don't force me to carve you another mouth below that flabby chin of yours. The Lord and Trigenta both know that one mouth is one too much for you."

The portly burgher's eyes went wide in fear, as he let the dumbfounded girl go and blubbered something unintelligible, stumbling backwards face aghast. "I—you—you can have her!" He blurted out pusillanimously, tripping over his bulky feet and falling on his rump with a pronounced 'oof'. Gohan took another threatening step forward as the sharp point of his sword gleamed in the sunlight, and Mawsby scrambled backwards gracelessly, dirtying his extravagant robes that gave Gohan an immense sense of satisfaction.

_Dirty. Just like us, bastard._

"Scram," he said stoically. Without another word, Jaleno Mawsby, of Luark, picked himself up and limped off towards the gates of the town, cursing and muttering threats under his breath—barely a whisper—in fear of invoking the young soldier's murderous wrath.

The young woman peered at him pensively, her brow wrinkling as she regarded the stranger that had both damned and saved her in the same breath. Gohan reddened slightly under her penetrating gaze, an uncomfortable look evident on his face as he avoided eye contact. He spotted the loaf of bread she stole, now on the ground after her aggressive struggling and stooped down to pick it up. He brushed off the dirt that clung on its base and offered it to her.

"I think this is yours," he said, perplexed at her vacant stare.

Suddenly, inexplicably, her brows furrowed and her mouth creased slightly into a frown. She stood up, her petite figure still enveloped in her cloak, ignoring his peace offering and looking directly into his eyes. Gohan relented and softened, his extended arm wavering a bit, as he readied himself to brush off the show of gratitude he knew was coming. She stepped up to him, as his eyes widened slightly and cheeks retained a pinkish hue, reared back, and punched him as hard as she could.

Gohan stepped back from the blow, scowling deeply and glowering incredulously at the girl as his hand rubbed his jawbone. "Oi, what the hell was that for!"

The woman huffed and sent a heated glare his way, fuming as her elfin features reddened and puffed up menacingly. "How dare you grab my chest, you pervert!" She shrieked, pointing an accusing finger at him as his face darkened in dread.

"W-w-whaaaa," he stammered, eyes wide in panic as he slowly backed away, "I—I didn'—I wasn't trying to feel your chest!" He squeaked, falling to the dirt path with his palms held up limply in a placating gesture.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4**

_Haec olim meminisse iuvabit- _One day, we'll look back on this and smile

**- Publius Vergilius Maro** (**Virgil)**

"I can't believe you'd take advantage of me like that, you dirtbag!" Her piercing blue eyes seared through his soul and he suddenly had the strangest of urges to whimper.

"B—But I…" Gohan found it hard to articulate a coherent response, because his constant stuttering was hindering his command of the Language.

"Not only did you have the gall to grab me, you filthy, chauvinistic _pig_, you also let that pompous bowl of lard _humiliate_ me!" Her vocal cords maintained their strenuous pitch, comically wavering in intensity at her perceived points of inflection.

"Me? I wasn't the one who _stole_ from him! I was being a good Samaritan!"

"Oh, excuse me, I must have missed the edict where 'Good Samaritans' can go harass any woman they see fit!" Her eyes were a smoldering cauldron of intensity, pitching angry torrents of fire with every word that made the young man cringe.

"For the last time, I wasn't trying to molest you!" Gohan pleaded in exasperation, a residual wave of aggravation creeping into his tone.

"Oh by Saint Korin, I've made a grave mistake then," and Gohan's eyes lit up in hope, "You must be that great Doctor rumored to be in the Prince's retinue, learning all about the _female _anatomy, correct?"

Gohan seethed in indignation. "Are you daft woman! Trigenta's blood, I didn't even _know _you were a girl until then!"

"I'm not a girl, you brutish _tosspot_. After seventeen summers, I am most _definitely_ a lady," she retorted angrily.

"Aye, _Madame_," he scoffed, "Surely stealing bread is a very lady-like thing to do."

She looked taken aback at the response, but recovered almost instantly with the most threatening glower she could muster. "I don't consider it stealing from that arrogant, low-life scum." She made a 'hmmph' noise and crossed her arms with finality.

Gohan didn't feel like bickering all day with this fiery vixen so he adjusted his gaze on to the loaf of bread still in his palms. A loud, strangling murmur suddenly filled the clammy afternoon air and Gohan stared sheepishly at the girl, a reddish hue touching his high cheekbones once again. She regarded him warily, glancing down at his stomach and back again with a questioning gaze. The boy blushed and groaned inwardly when another similar whine protested loudly again, cursing whatever Saints he could to quell the infernal churning of his belly.

"Sweet Korin," she breathed, "You're more of an animal than a human being." She made an exaggerated gasp of enlightenment, fixing her stare on him once more, "That'll explain your brutish, perverted tendencies!"

Gohan glowered at her heatedly, her wicked smirk infuriating him to no end. There was no limit to the obvious abilities she had in the art of annoyance and Gohan's patience was stretched out as thin as a thread strung on a loom. Instead of engaging in another pointless and rather animated bout of squabbling for ego supremacy, Gohan suddenly devised another way to get back at this annoying girl. The corners of his lips tugged upward into an iniquitous smile and the raven-haired girl narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Just what are you stari--" Gohan cut into her sentence by tearing off a big chunk of bread between his teeth, munching on the sweet tasting, slightly embellished piece with a smile of contentment. She gaped at him incredulously, watching him gulp down the masticated remains of _her_ bread and unceremoniously stuff another large piece into his mouth with a toothy grin.

"How—How _dare_ you! That was _my_ bread!" She exclaimed, lunging for the rather small portion that remained, still gripped securely in his right hand.

"Mmph mmphhh," he replied, struggling to contain his widening grin as he watched her swipe the remaining slice from his hand and clutch it to her chest protectively.

She glared at him murderously as Gohan finished his little snack, making an exaggerated show of smacking his lips and licking his fingers, before speaking. "You heathen, have you no ethics? No morals? How can you just eat somebody else's food without even asking!"

"Aye, that would be considered _stealing_, wouldn't it?" He snorted in amusement when all she had in reply was another piercing glare. She was really pretty, he had to concede, but she was also undoubtedly the most annoying person he had ever had the misfortune of conversing with.

So with that dilemma neatly solved, the spiky-haired boy dusted off his hands and readjusted the sword scabbard hanging loosely on his belt, then turned to head in the direction of the town of Luark, eager to resume his journey. He could literally _feel_ the burn of the scowl boring through the back of his skull, but he deigned himself to not look back and give her the sense of satisfaction.

It took a surprising amount of willpower to refrain from peeking another glimpse however, since her singularly elfin features all but demanded another look. Shaking his head, he pushed aside such dangerous thoughts and smiled inwardly, succumbing to immaturity as he gleefully remembered her flabbergasted expression. He just wanted to sing and do a victory dance, but he refrained and frowned at this new influx of boyish tendencies. He was a warrior. Not a circus clown.

Gohan heard the soft crunch of packed dirt as her boots padded over the surface, and grimaced before turning around and watching her walk towards the town a mere three feet away from him. To any casual observer, it might even be construed that they were walking together. He stopped and angled his eyebrows, and she stopped too, throwing another one of her irritated glares that he was fast beginning to despise.

"Are you following me?" He asked gruffly, still looking back at her.

"_You_," she raged, "You owe me a loaf of bread. I will not leave without getting another one."

"You _stole_ that bread!"

"Oh my gosh. It was mine! I stole it first!"

"What! Are you sure you're seventeen, not somewhere around _ten_!"

She huffed and lifted her chin in marked intransigence, signaling to Gohan that no amount of talking or reasoning would convince her otherwise. "I am not going anywhere without my bread, you ruffian."

Gohan threw up his hands in disbelief, but after assessing the look of concentrated determination on her face, he sighed and continued on towards Luark, the cloaked girl in tow. They walked in tensioned silence for a few minutes, their feet crunching the gravel in unison, before Gohan ventured to speak again.

"Gohan," he said simply, not turning to look at her. For a moment, Gohan thought that his cloaked companion wouldn't endeavor to speak to him at all, but she seemed to acquiesce a bit later, thankfully in a somewhat neutral tone.

"My name is Videl."

"I'm not from around here," he said simply. It was a veiled attempt to hide his burgeoning curiosity in her and the tart statement provided to probe her without sounding overtly inquisitive.

"I noticed that," she replied with a hint of sarcasm, "you look like you're still living in the previous century." She snickered as she glanced at Gohan's garb and the boy scowled at her jibe irritably.

In the succeeding silence, as the wind rustled the tree branches and birds chirped enthusiastically, Gohan thought she wouldn't elaborate any further. But as they approached the gates of Luark, its arched entryway revealing the crowded marketplace, she spoke again.

"I'm not from here either. I've been traveling for a while and this stupid cloak isn't exactly silk." She shuffled inside the oversized cloak, readjusting it around her shoulders and pulling petulantly at parts of it that clung to her back and neck. The black, coarse material was obviously intensifying this damnable heat and adding to her aggravation and Gohan wondered who in their right mind would wear such a contraption in their recent weather conditions.

"Why in the Blessed Trigenta's name are you wearing that thing in summer?" He inquired quizzically, "The heat must be getting to your head." He smirked in payback as she frowned at the snide remark.

"You daft brute, I wear this stupid thing to keep perverts like you off me. I'm traveling alone, if you haven't noticed."

Gohan bridled at her allusion, but before he could object he heard a loud thud not unlike the sound of a heavy object impacting the Earth. He looked up to see the two guards, snapped out of their uncaring indolence, peering at both him and Videl from either side of the town gates. Gohan regarded them coolly, nodding slightly as he made eye contact with the guard on the right whose face contorted into a look of thinly veiled suspicion.

"Travelers?" He called out in a stentorian voice that tried to muster up a sense of authority but fell pitifully short.

Gohan knew they were essentially discarded soldiers, either crippled or incompetent enough to be cut from the army that drafted almost anybody with a _pulse_, but did not want to engage in another hostile encounter. He nodded again, gesturing to his garb to disclose his weapon.

"Aye. Just weary travelers seeking a decent meal and a night's rest."

The guard nodded in recognition and made to move to the side, when his counterpart squinted skeptically at Videl's cloaked figure. The sun's rays, unhindered in the pale blue sky, shone down fully and even her deep cowl couldn't hide the creamy skin of her neckline and feminine set of her jaw.

"And what do we have here? A lass dressed as a monk, what what?" He questioned, his voice thickly accented to the point where it seemed like it actually slurred in inebriation.

Gohan glanced at her and saw her fidgeting with the folds of her cloak in discomfort, shying away from the guard's stare and moving closer to Gohan's muscular frame. Gohan had no doubt that her reclusion wasn't because of the dirty leer the guard threw at her, but because of something entirely different. He didn't suppose that this fiery girl was scared too frequently, especially not at something as commonplace as a sexually oriented sneer that girls with her looks were assuredly familiar with. He smirked inwardly, struggling to contain the small upwards tug at the end of his lips and fought to retain his most neutral look. This could be entertaining after all.

"My sister," he said, tilting his head towards her, "She's…Let's just say that after an unfortunate accident trying to fit a shoe on our master's unwilling Rauncy, she's not the prettiest thing to look at."

Both guards cringed as he looked back at her hooded face, a wicked glint in his eye, his features shifting into an almost imperceptible smirk. "Poor thing," he clucked, moving towards her, shaking his head sadly, "Mama always said she wasn't the sharpest sword of the lot." He fussed with her cloak, pulling it down a bit further and rubbing his hand soothingly on her back, and Videl could do nothing but lower her head to play the act.

"A shame," one of them remarked, almost disconsolately. "I'm always trying to convince me ol' hag that her face could have been an accident."

"Aye, but this one 'ere a bit too young to put such a body to waste," the other piped, sighing longingly and peering back at the marketplace to settle his roving eyes on something more entertaining.

"Aye and the like," Gohan nodded, putting his arms around Videl's shoulders and leading her through the gateway, "I knew something was off when I caught her trying to milk Betsy."

"Cow too old to milk?" His pronounced accent nearly made Gohan snort in amusement.

"Nay, Betsy be our goldfish."

Both guards threw pitiful looks at her and shook their heads sadly as they let the duo pass. Gohan led her through the opening and they effortlessly mingled with the large and active crowd that had congregated at the marketplace. Once they were well out of sight of the two guards, Videl pulled her cowl back and glowered murderously at the smiling youth.

"What the hell were you doing?" She hissed angrily, paying more attention to the crowd since one had bumped passed her on his way to a stall selling pottery. They threaded their way through the maze of people cautiously, trying to get to the large avenue that led into the heart of the town.

"Be grateful. I got you in, didn't I?" He glanced back at her in amusement, knowing full well the glare she'd return.

"I didn't need your help, you thuggish brigand."

"Aye, but I beg to differ. What would our well respected friend, _Master_ Jaleno Mawsby think of his most beloved thief seeking food and lodgings in his town?"

"S—t," she cursed, unladylike, her big cobalt eyes darting around the bazaar ardently. "No doubt he'll get his breeches in a knot if he sees me around here," and as if seconding her own observation, she draped her cowl on her head once more.

"Maybe I should seek him out and hand you to him and claim that _most generous_ reward of his," he taunted, "Perhaps that will persuade you to stop following me around."

He glanced at her but she seemed to be half-listening, her attention devoted to surveying the town for that pompous prick. After making sure his flabby gut was nowhere near the vicinity, she gave him an annoyed stare as they continued on the main thoroughfare lined with refuse and offal that nearly made her gag.

In these trying times, one could easily discern without, perhaps, the influence of sympathy how a peasant could risk death for even the smallest morsels of food. The street was littered with filthy beggars and cripples, some displaying a gory wound and others dragging their limbless bodies on a crude wheeled cart, all vying for the pennies of the visitors. They marched hurriedly down to where the road forked, Gohan opting to take the right path, not because he saw anything of interest or because of some instinctive sense of direction, but because this path offered a considerably less variety of the disenfranchised.

Their pace slowed, and Gohan took the time to survey the high, three story buildings, made to cram the mushrooming population of this town into the relatively small lot enclosed within the town walls. The buildings were often crooked, with crudely made balconies and low overhangs, as the upper floors 'hung' above the street in an effort to create more living space, which consequently cast deep shadows even in the noonday sun. In some places the overhang was so pronounced that only a sliver of daylight made it through, a luminescent strip of light reflecting off the stone pathway with darkness and gloom surrounding it.

_What a demoralizing place to live in_, Gohan mused grimly. He knew all too well the effect constant deprivation of the sun and fresh air did to a person and he could not imagine how people could live in a place where the air was fetid and stale and light rarely made it through.

Videl was walking beside him silently, her eyes flickering back and forth between the various personages they passed by. There was a big, bony woman emptying out the contents of a pail in the corner, the brownish liquid splattering against the wall, before streaming towards an open pipe that drained the city sewage, steaming with offal and waste.

A bit further down an old man slinked towards the marketplace, a mangy looking sack slung over his bent shoulder. Her cowl allowed a few strands of her raven hair to fall gently across her face, the silky bangs swaying slightly as they walked. Her sparkling azure eyes were framed by long lashes, and with every blink he could see them quiver before they set back into place. He watched her left hand fiddle with the remaining piece of bread, her pinkish lips closed together as she struggled with indecision.

Gohan's hearing, as was elaborated, was intensely sensitive to even the smallest of sounds. And he knew the girl was famished by the way she fingered the bread restlessly and by the quiet, certainly unnoticeable, wail of protest her stomach let off every five minutes or so. He wondered why she hadn't bit into the morsel yet and felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He _did_ eat more than half of what he surmised was her only meal of the day and judging by her active and fiery personality, she would need all the calories she could scrounge in this tax-ridden land.

_What the hell is she waiting for! Eat it,_ the boy yelled in his mind, his conscience bombarding him yet again with a series of reprimands geared towards establishing his guilt. The morsel wasn't much, but it was enough to sate the appetite for an hour or so before she would be starving enough to require more food. By that time, Gohan hoped, he would be rid of her and the weight of this responsibility would dissipate into nothingness. Well, he _hoped._

He tried to assure himself that the girl could take care of herself, as evidenced by her spirit and demeanor, but it was hard convincing his unnecessarily pesky charitable side. The hell was its problem, anyway? He couldn't go around picking up every stray he ran across, could he? Gohan growled in frustration before realizing that the girl of his thoughts wasn't beside him anymore.

_Maybe she got the hint and left,_ he mused, before turning around and looking for her. She was easy enough to spot, her baggy cloak drowning her petite body in its folds not too far away as she stood facing a wall. Only after the lad peered closer did he discern that it wasn't the wall she was looking at, but a boy of about twelve, standing in the corner between the large pile of refuse and the alley wall, his face emaciated and haggard as grime coated every inch of exposed skin.

A large, worn and tattered tunic, its original color faded and tarnished beyond recognition, hung loosely over the thin body and two bony legs jutted out from where the tunic ended at his knees. He was picking and prodding through the pile of waste, trying to search for something edible that didn't stink too badly. Videl was gazing at him forlornly and two frightened eyes stared back at her.

Gohan lowered his eyes in dejection, barely able to stomach the boy's condition. _An orphan. _

Videl's eyes fought with herself, her body racked with indecision. But she shook her head and with a small smile reached out and grabbed the boy's hand. He still looked frightened, unable to discern exactly what this woman wanted, and felt a soft, spongy thing being placed in his palm. His face widened in shock as he looked down to see the piece of bread in his palm, the bleached and fluffy insides coated with a bronzed shell staring back at him, before looking back up to see her walking away.

Gohan found her in a dour mood, sitting silently on a stone precipice that seemed to be remains of a building of some sort. Her deep blue eyes roamed the streets as if in search for any source of food or shelter. Gohan knew that the hunger was gnawing at her now, dispelling any thought processes in favor of the whiny, constant wail of protest bombarding her consciousness. It was indeed difficult to think of anything else when the body kept moaning to be fed. It was like the incessant wail of an infant. Even sincere, concentrated efforts to ignore it invariably yielded to complete obsession with it.

In his mind, he screamed in frustration before narrowing his eyes at her in a show of indifference. "What are you doing?" He barked, trying to sound gruff.

She slowly turned an irritated scowl in his direction, before resuming her lackluster and half-hearted search. Clenching his fists in annoyance, he shook his head and briskly strode off on the stony pavement, muttering something unintelligible. She gave his back a minute look of forlorn entreaty, before glaring at him and glancing elsewhere in a huff. She didn't need him. She was her own woman. She survived all this time without anyone. There's no reason why she can't still. Yeah, there was this slight problem of food.

_There wouldn't be one if that stupid git didn't eat my bread! _She fumed, not noticing how her burning pangs of hunger had all but faded into seething indignation. The nerve of the boy! She didn't have enough time for her resentment to fester into something more hateful though, because the same boy she had thought had abandoned her came striding back, a neutral, almost angry expression on his face.

He walked right up to her and she peered up at him with questioning eyes. His mouth was compressed in a taut line and it seemed everything he did was forced and unnatural. Slowly, his eyes flickering as if they were locked in battle with himself, he reached behind his tunic and produced a small bundle of cloth that when opened revealed cheese, bread and a cup of water. Steadying himself, taking a deep, calming breath, he set them down in the bewildered girl's lap, markedly avoiding eye contact.

"Eat," he commanded, flicking his eyes up to meet hers.

She gazed at him as if she was studying him, her eyes squinting a little and her face creasing in thought. Suddenly her expression darkened and she whipped her face off to the side angrily in a juvenile show of rejection. It wasn't too prudent of her when her stomach was growling incessantly for nourishment, but she had this compelling urge to save face before this infuriating lad.

He snorted derisively, "Fine then. Starve. Like I would care." Grunting in annoyance, he flopped down beside her on the precipice and faced the opposite direction, brooding silently. The tension continued to mount as neither made a move to do anything, their statuesque forms frozen in twin looks of agitation and contempt. To the casual passerby, it was the most peculiar scene indeed. Here were two people, obviously not nobility, sitting on the same precipice but making rather conspicuous efforts to avoid each others' gaze.

Videl snuck a peek at the surly teen, who fidgeted with the hilt of his broadsword as he gazed out towards the marketplace. The last of the merchants were closing their stalls and only the loungers remained, idly chatting and sipping ale as they lazed in the waning illumination of twilight. He was strong-jawed and, if he was given a decent shave and bath, could be considered quite fetching. His hair was unruly, jutting upwards towards the sky in a wild array of gravity-defying spikes and his slight stubble covered parts of his chin and jaw line. With a strong, prominent nose and high cheek-bones, he had a masculine sort of charm to him that had drew her interest initially.

He shifted before angling his head slightly, turning a curious peek towards her and catching her intense stare. Immediately realizing his folly, he panicked and hastily averted his eyes again and she huffed loudly, a small smile playing on her features at the sense of power. Taking another deep breath, he schooled his features and turned to face her again. She was chewing thoughtfully on her meal, the cloth spread out on the ledge between them.

"Thanks," she murmured, her eyes lowered and staring intently, a bit too intently, on the hunk of cheese.

"What was that? I couldn't quite make it out," he quizzed, smirking.

She glared at his haughty expression. "That's another thing your body underperforms woefully at. First thinking, now hearing?"

She smiled smugly as his face contorted into an indignant stare before popping another piece of bread in her mouth. Even though he was sure that hunger was ravaging her insides, she still maintained a modicum of etiquette as she chewed meticulously on the rather basic meal. She sat high and proper, her back straight and her legs crossed at the knees, a portion of cheese balanced delicately on her thigh and the bread shorn neatly in her hands.

"You can eat too, if you want," she offered. He glowered at her.

"Aye, how generous of you." The irony was not lost on the beleaguered warrior, but he did not argue further and accepted the bread and cheese from her outstretched hand. Without thinking, he stuffed them in his mouth munching noisily, much to her dismay. She scowled at his abhorrent sense of manners, the loud slurping and chewing attesting to the fact.

"Shouldn't be too hard to find a decent place to sleep," he commented neutrally, not implying anything yet. He didn't have the courage to tell her to take a hike, but conversely wasn't going to concede his ego and offer her the opportunity to sleep with him. He blushed at the thought and looked away, pretending to scrutinize the pale stone village walls for the aforementioned place of lodging.

Videl frowned slightly, casting a wary glance in the rapidly darkening town of Luark. "I've got to keep away from that fat, pompous prick. Should be alright in a town such as this," she nodded towards the largest house. Gohan had had the same instinctive thought as hers and bobbed his head in appraisal.

"Aye, seems comely enough."

With that, they walked in silence towards the mansion, their camaraderie solely inspired by a hope of an offer of lodging. Or at least, that's what they convinced themselves of.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5**

**Corruptio optimi pessima -**The corruption of the best is the worst

"Upon my life, _Master_ Gohan," she drawled the word 'master' with considerable enthusiasm, "Never have I seen such a prime specimen of honest labor." She grinned when he flicked his head towards her in a deep scowl, before heaving the weighty axe down in a mighty arc, cleaving the stump of wood in two.

They had managed to persuade the Lady of the manor to allow them lodging for the night in the stables in return for some miscellaneous work that she had had pending. The war effort had leeched good labormen, the Lady had complained ostentatiously, and there was rarely a chore or duty that had not been left undone by the day's end. Gohan's sturdy frame and muscular physique easily convinced her of their worth.

Unfortunately for Gohan, his damned conscience—his ego was just as guilty—had refused Videl's offer to help him in the work, leaving him stranded straining with effort while she sat comfortably on her perch of the stable siding. The comments from the peanut gallery were far more aggravating than the minor nuance of making firewood though, in his humble opinion.

"Feh," he sniffed, hefting the blade over his shoulder and bringing it down with an audible 'crack'. "Glad I can be your source of entertainment, _Lady _Videl," he drawled, pushing the two neatly sliced pieces of wood into the growing stack beside him. "We wouldn't want your highness to break a nail, you dainty witch you," he muttered under his breath, snickering when she yelped in protest.

Videl slouched on the stable wall laconically, eyeing the only other inhabitant of the foul smelling shack other than them, a sturdy pack-horse named Garfield. She wondered what kind of idiot would name a horse, let alone name one 'Garfield'. She shook her head in amazement at the amount of time people would spend on such trivial matters when they didn't have to constantly battle starvation.

With a final, resounding 'crack', Gohan chucked the newly sheared log into the pile triumphantly. "Finally! That damned tree went on forever!" He exclaimed, his body winded from the exertion.

"It was only a medium sized log, you slacker," Videl piped, jumping down from her perch and inspecting the pile of wood, "Besides, you missed one." She pointed at an unusually thick piece of the log that remained intact. "Maybe your skull would better substitute as firewood," she quipped, a sardonic smile playing over her elegant features.

"Bah," Gohan frowned, staring angrily at the azure depths of her eyes that were dancing with mirth. "Let's see you do any better, _mistress_. I'd be willing to wager my last silver this lump of wood is more useful than you."

She narrowed her eyes quickly, stiffening her posture, "Are you challenging me?"

"Nay, a challenge would entail a worthy adversary. I feel it's far too lopsided that we pit you against this block of wood. It has a considerable handicap, don't ya think?" He grinned at her rapidly reddening face and tilted his head towards the axe. She huffed and grabbed the handle resting against his thigh, heaving with all her might and hefting it above her shoulder.

Her eyes hardly veiled her surprise at the considerable weight of the blade, making her petite form wobble backwards under its sheer mass. Focusing all her energy and strength, she tightened her grip on the wooden handle and tilted her body backwards for leverage, her eyes staring intently at the target. She knew that she had to compensate for the disparity between the strength of the boy and her by forcing the heavy blade down with all her might, making sure it impacted the block of wood exactly in its center.

Gohan regarded her determination with silent awe, noting the focused look in her eyes that signaled unlimited reserves of resolve as she teetered unevenly. Her petite form trembled under the massive axe and suddenly, with a groan of effort, the girl launched herself at the block of wood. She cried out in alarm when the momentum of the heavy blade overwhelmed her balance, and Gohan watched in horror as the blade splintered the wooden horse stall with a loud 'crash', cringing as the girl tumbled in after it.

Garfield whinnied nervously and fretted skittishly with two frightened eyes, unsettled. A bewildered Videl emerged moments later from the broken stall, a stray strand of hay caught in her disheveled raven locks, staring at the carnage wildly.

"You—You…You broke the stall!" Gohan spluttered loudly, gaping at the splintered pieces of wood then at the girl herself.

She wiped the look of astonishment that belied her features with a piercing glare. "It's all your fault, you oaf. You egged me to do it!" And when the boy whipped an even more incredulous—if that was possible—stare at her, she continued hotly. "And thanks for noticing that I'm okay, you insensitive churl!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"There. That should do it," Gohan stated, stepping back slightly and surveying his handiwork. The wooden beam rested awkwardly on its supports horizontally, a conspicuous crack in the center, which had messily splintered the wood, wrapped shoddily with coarse rope.

Videl had a bead of sweat suddenly emerge on her temple. "Do what? It looks like the work of a drunk carpenter. Or somebody woefully incompetent."

Gohan glared at her murderously. "_You_ have no right to complain about it! If it wasn't for you, I would be sleeping soundly in my bed of hay, not worrying about being stranded tonight in the forest," he hissed venomously.

She gave him a scowl with equally determined annoyance, "I know that you dolt! I'm just saying that if her _Ladyship_ happens to stroll in here, you might end up sleeping near a waste heap anyway."

"Feh, still your fault. Besides, I doubt that the Mistress is right adamant upon strolling. It certainly seems like the pantry door gets more exercise than her," and Gohan snickered loudly, Videl allowing a small smile to creep up on her face.

"You may be right for once," she grinned, the pale moonlight illumination reflecting off her elfin features in an ethereal glow. Gohan gulped and turned away, idly stroking Garfield's mane in an attempt to calm the skittish horse so they could get some rest.

He heard Videl sigh and flop down on the rather generous portions of hay and bracken heaped in her corner, stretching her lithe body like a cat and making Gohan gulp some more. Then suddenly, his eyes narrowed as he watched her petite form pad the stuffing.

"Oi, what do you think you're doing woman?" He protested angrily.

"Huh? What does it look like, you brute? Getting ready to sleep," she retorted, clearly confused at his outburst.

"You took almost all the hay!" He continued his indignant protest, prowling towards her threateningly.

She blinked and regarded her mattress, smiling coyly when she realized that she _had_, albeit unintentionally, taken copious amounts of the stuff and left Gohan with a paltry excuse of a bed. "Upon my word, you're quite right. You wouldn't let a lady have her this small comfort, perchance?" She smiled demurely, but Gohan saw right through her in his agitation.

"Feh! Comfort? You don't need that much hay, you must weigh less than a cart's wheel!" Gohan exclaimed loudly. "And you're probably less useful than it too," he added smugly, watching her curious face screw up in irritation.

"Ooh, you impossible beast. Go sleep beside Garfield in the stall! It's made specifically for asses." With that, she huffed loudly and turned sideways, tucking her hands under her head and pretending to be asleep.

Gohan spluttered indignantly, but he knew enough of her spirit to concede that she won't respond to anything he did now. Sighing wearily, he trudged his way to the remaining hay mound, scuffing his boots extra loudly on the stable floor to show his frustration.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"AHH!"

Gohan jolted awake at the shrill voice, whipping his head around in both directions to discern where it had come from. Disoriented, as the sleep shrouded his consciousness in a thick veil, he pushed himself onto his feet and stumbled in the general direction of the sound. Understandably, his visibility was considerably poor in the pitch black of the night, the closed stable door shutting out any means of illumination, however paltry, by the crescent moon.

"What the heck do you think you're doing?" He heard Videl shriek, suddenly darting his head towards the flicker of movement to his right. He squinted his eyes and barely made out the vague outline of her petite form, clutching her cloak to her body as she scampered back to the stable wall. If the sleep wasn't obscuring Gohan's faculties of reason, he wouldn't have been so baffled at to what exactly she was doing. What had spooked her so much?

"Shh! Shh! I wasn't doing anything!" Now Gohan was truly mystified. That surely wasn't Videl's voice and he was _quite_ sure that Garfield hadn't learned how to talk during the course of the night.

"The hell you weren't, you pervert! You were trying to grope me in my sleep!"

"Wha—? N…no," he heard the unfamiliar voice stammer and caught a glimpse of another outline of a figure opposite that of Videl's. "I was only trying to sleep!"

"Huh…" Was all Gohan could muster before his bare foot caught on to something and he felt himself tumble uncouthly onto the soft and springy bed of hay. Videl squeaked as Gohan's muscular form crashed onto the bracken between her and her mystery assailant, muttering curses as he hastily pushed himself up and put his body between them both.

"Who the hell are you?" He rasped harshly, trying rather uncomfortably to balance his frame on the springy padding. Videl peaked out from behind him and stared at the shadowy outline of the man. He was small. Actually, he was diminutive. Assuredly she'd have thought it was a small boy had his voice and his, ahem, rather prurient actions not suggested otherwise.

"Uh…who, me?" The man stammered nervously. He moved his arm up to scratch his head and Gohan recoiled at the sudden movement, instinctively shoving Videl's peaking form behind him. Videl squeaked almost inaudibly, but said nothing in the pitch darkness. Only the labored breathing of the three occupants broke the stifling silence as they tried to adjust their eyes to the gloomy darkness. Gohan growled dangerously, keeping his eyes trained on the obscure figure who had started backing away from the piqued warrior.

"No, I meant the pack-horse. Of course I meant you, you addle-brained twit." It was an unusual tone he used, still threatening and harsh but laced with sarcasm.

"I'm just a traveler. I was offered this stable to sleep by the Lady of the Manor," the man said quickly. His voice was strangely nasal and Gohan had no doubt that he'd fast get annoyed of that tenor, "I thought I'd be the only one here."

Gohan narrowed his eyes and cursed inwardly, silently berating himself for his conspicuous lack of awareness, even in slumber. "We've got problems with bedding as it is, so piss off," Gohan responded truculently, raising to his full height.

"But that's not fair!" The midget of a man strained his neck up and protested in a lengthened whine, Gohan cringing forcibly at the strenuous pitch of his bleat.

"Korin's belly, shut up before you wake the whole God forsaken town!" Gohan hissed fractiously, eyes gleaning in annoyance despite the darkness.

The strange man lowered his voice fearfully, but still griped in his, now trademarked, nasal whine, "I earned this sleep! I had to offer blessings to countless idiots for the entire day!"

"Blessings?" Videl inquired, shuffling out from behind Gohan's posture and resting her back against the stable wall.

"Aye, these northerners have some rather imbecilic customs. Whoever heard of blessing a dish rag so it would protect them from food poisoning?" Although Gohan could barely even make out the man's silhouette in the darkness, he was quite sure a scowl had made its way on his face.

"You're a monk?" Videl's voice was unmistakably one of disbelieving wonder.

"Been one for over twenty years."

"I find that rather indigestible, _pervert_," Videl accused in her customary arrogant snort.

"I was only trying to gather some hay to sleep on!" The monk protested, his arms spread out in emphasis. He shrunk back anxiously when Gohan growled as he was often wont to do at sudden movements as that.

"Oh? Then please explain to me why you found it prudent to start with the bracken from under my posterior!" She hissed threateningly, quite relieved that the darkness would veil her rapidly reddening blush.

"I—I," Krillen stammered, but was cut off when Garfield whinnied nervously at the sudden commotion. Gohan sighed and groped his way blindly over to the old horse's stall, rubbing his mane to soothe its tension. It wasn't because he particularly liked dealing with animals or playing stableboy, but because he was afraid that all this fuss would rouse the inhabitants of the Manor. That would assuredly earn them a rather unpleasant ride out of town.

Gohan heard Videl strike tinder and flint, catching how the spark ignited the brand and pierced the gloom in his peripheral vision. The boy frowned and concentrated on the pale pack-horse forcefully, tucking his chin low in his chest. He mentally scolded himself for being caught off guard at the sudden and unexpected vision of Videl, her cloak draped over her petite from and her raven locks cascading down her neck, the light playing strategically off her silky bangs in subtle blotches. _For f—k's sake, what's wrong with you. You've seen plenty of pretty girls before, you dolt!_

The monk's eyes widened in surprise as the faint illumination cast its light over Gohan's frame, bent over the horse at its stall, rubbing rather determinedly. He took a sharp intake of breath and whistled softly to himself, before his round face broke in a mirthful grin. Gohan stiffened and, sensing that both sets of eyes were trained on his back, turned to face them with his face set in an expected mask of impassive indolence. It was only after the youth peered inquiringly at the monk's smiling face that a small spark of recognition flashed in his obsidian orbs.

Videl watched the entire episode enfold with a confused but curious expression. The monk was a short, stocky man with a rotund and oddly disproportional bald head that sat precariously on narrow and lank shoulders. Two jovial eyes were set in a face that boasted rather blunted and bland features, and she wondered if he had an actual nose or just a functional snout. She brought her hand up to her mouth in a preemptive effort to stifle any snickers that were threatening to escape.

"Gohan, that can't be you can it?" The monk asked tentatively.

Gohan squinted at the diminutive figure of the monk in an inquiring gaze, his lips pressed in a taut line and head propped at an angle. After a moment of silence, Videl alternating her questioning stare between both men, she saw Gohan's lips tug upwards in a knowing smirk. "Krillen, you ol' geezer. You're still living?"

Krillen grinned cunningly, "Aye, still breathin'." He looked Gohan's muscular frame up and down and then quipped aporetically, "Trigenta's blood, are you eating whole _villages_ for supper lad? You've grown like foot fungus, by Korin!"

"Feh!" Gohan snorted, but in mirthful amusement. "Nay, you've been growing shorter old man."

Krillen shook his head genially before walking over and giving the young man a solid thump on the back, or small of the back, if we account for the height disparity. "Aye and the like. I hardly recognized good ol' gullible Gohan with that sword belt, mind you. How are you?"

Gohan fidgeted nervously while trailing fleeting looks at Videl's smirking face. "Well enough. And just what are you babbling about ol' man?" He asked hurriedly, earning him an amused stare from the monk.

"Good ol' gullible Gohan?" Krillen turned to regard the girl for the first time in the light. He had all but forgot her existence before when his attention was diverted with Gohan. She was as pretty as she was fiery, he noted with a mix of awe and trepidation.

"FEH! I'm not gullible!" The boy huffed angrily, glaring murderously at the monk who held up his hands in a placating gesture.

Grinning smugly, Krillen jabbed the bristling youth's ribs and continued, "Aye, but a fair bit less gullible than I had thought before. Hadn't believed I'd have a run in with our little Gohan sleeping in the same stable as a pretty woman, hadn't I? No by Trigenta, not in a millennia would I have even dreamed that." He ended his seemingly innocuous statement with a sleazy wink, and both Gohan and Videl immediately blushed in twin looks of denial.

Gohan was the first to recover from his embarrassment, summoning his discipline and schooling his features. "Don't get any ideas monk. It's merely coincidence that brought us here."

"Ah, coincidence," the monk repeated, nodding sagely. "Certainly coincidence would explain your apparent enthusiasm in protecting her."

Videl bridled in indignation, glaring daggers into the infuriatingly shrewd midget. "Assuredly you will grow a brain before I see that brute for anything else," she replied hastily, huffing and sticking her nose imperiously in the air.

Krillen just chuckled softly before turning to Gohan's blushing face once more. "It's good to see you lad. I was getting worried about you and your mother."

Something stabbed Gohan in the belly, and he had to resist the urge to retch before staring at his father's long time friend and village priest blankly. "They're dead."

Krilled reeled in shock and squinted his large eyes, "W—What?"

"Aye." Gohan's posture stiffened and hardly any emotion showed through his feigned apathy.

"Why…How?" Krillen's eyes were wild and he asked forcefully, all mirth vanishing from his naturally gregarious features.

Gohan suddenly felt weary, as if a sudden weight was burdening his shoulders and the ground was turning into quicksand. He lowered his pained eyes and glared at Garfield, the pale grey pack-horse. "Keh. Killed in a village raid," he spat. "The whole village is gone. Everybody…" he trailed softly, remorse thick in his voice.

Krillen absorbed the information with a sudden surge of anger and guilt, not to mention confusion. "What village raid? I heard rumors of bandits striking, that's all."

"Aye."

"So it was a lie?"

"When have the nobility ever told the truth?" Gohan hissed angrily, turning obsidian orbs burning with a desire for vengeance at Krillen.

Krillen lowered his face and stared at the dark soil guiltily, "I should…I should have been there."

"Keh. You'd have died like the rest of them," Gohan growled venomously, still avoiding eye contact to veil his hurt.

"I'm sorry." Krillen had no family, but he had grown up in the village of Trigent since being orphaned. Those people were the only family he'd ever known. But Gohan had only his mother and his brother and now he'd lost them too.

"That won't bring them back," he barked disconsolately. They stood in somber silence for what seemed eternity, only the small flame of Videl's torch crackling sporadically breaking the quiet. Videl had lowered her eyes in remorse, feeling more upset than she should for the young lad's loss. She shivered as the flame started to die and the night cold seeped through the stable walls, before Gohan spoke again.

"We should sleep. It's getting cold," he looked up and met Videl's cobalt eyes gazing at him forlornly. He took the cloth draped over Garfield's stall's gate, meant to provide the horse with some warmth in the chilly days of winter, and handed it to Videl.

She took it graciously and mumbled a soft "Thanks", her voice low and doleful, before retiring to her bed of hay and bracken. Gohan sighed again and flopped on his makeshift bed and squeezed his eyes shut, shoving aside the thoughts of sorrow and guilt that flooded his consciousness in a supreme effort of willpower. It probably was going to be a long night for him.


End file.
